


Slip Sliding Away

by ringodeathstarr



Category: Simon & Garfunkel
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Gay, M/M, Sick Egg Number 2 writes a piece of Garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:24:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringodeathstarr/pseuds/ringodeathstarr
Summary: !~Set while Art abandons Paul 4 Mexico~!Worst 2 dollar fic under the sun !





	1. I'd Rather be an Ira than a Snail

**Author's Note:**

> i am sorry

“So how is everything going down there anyway?” the phone line is grainy and Paul can barely make out the jumble of words coming from Art’s end. 

“It’s all going great, Paul! We’re shooting some really interesting scenes and-“ there’s another cut in the line as Paul squints down at the phone- hoping that somehow makes it easier to understand what his friend is saying. “…So when do you think you will be back?” asks Paul. 

Silence. 

Paul tires again, this time with a bit more force, “Artie? Hello? Any news on when you’ll be back?” Paul waits with anticipation, his heart skipping a beat when a mousey voice cuts through the crackling sandstorm of their long distance phone call. “We were only supposed to be here a few more weeks, but I’ve got a couple of alternate scenes to shoot, so Mike says we might be here until the end of July.”

Paul won’t admit he’s disappointed. Or that he didn’t think it was possible for time to actually pass in reverse. Songs won’t come, and seems like the end of July won’t either. “Paul? Are you still there, I really should be..” 

“Okay.” Paul quipped dryly. 

“Paul, is that alright? I know you were talking about going back into the studio in August and I’m not sure if we have enough material-“

“I said it’s Okay.”

Art let out a sigh. “Paul, I…”

“Artie,” Paul breathed into the phone, “It’s fine, look, just finish the film, come home, and we’ll start work on the album then. I’ve got a few ideas I’ve been playing around with”. He was lying, but he hoped that the fuzzy signal would hide the disappointment in his voice. 

“Paul?” Art sounded small and far away- very far away. 

The line went quiet. Paul sat in his empty apartment, expressionless.

“I miss you.” Sighed Art. 

“Yeah.” Paul replied weakly. “I’ll see you soon, Artie”

Paul sat motionless, with the phone against his ear long after their conversation had ended with an exhausted feeling in his stomach.


	2. The Sound of Silence in Paul's Dumb Car

Their silence shared in the car ride home from the airport wasn’t a familiar one. Paul had asked Art earlier if he needed any help with his luggage, and that was about it. Art usually did most of the talking, and their wasn’t much of that going on either. 

On the plane ride home he rehearsed all of the stories he was going to tell Paul- about how many times he wished that his friend was there to see one of his many on-set pranks, or to resurrect an inside joke when the moment arose. As the captain announced their landing, Art’s stomach fluttered with the thought of seeing Paul, which he passed off as obvious nerves form the landing – he still hadn’t gotten used to planes. 

He wanted to say something but couldn’t help but feel the residue of Paul’s obvious disappointment from their last phone call. Art knew how antsy Paul could get when he wasn’t writing – the drinking, the pacing, the girls. Paul had once proclaimed, albeit drunkenly, that he could never grasp the idea of a song without Art there with him. Quite tipsy himself, Art returned the gesture with a flushed face and a response that echoed in sincerity. It was hard to recall such a fond moment in the audible tension of the Paul’s car. 

“So,” Art cleared his throat. “I’ve got a few ideas for the harmonies in the middle section of that Boxer tune”

Paul could feel Art’s familiar gaze burning in his peripheral vision as he kept focused on the road, his jaw clenched and brow furrowed. “Or we could work on that one you were fiddling around with just before we left, that gospel one you were working out when we were sitting in the living room.” 

Art gazed out the window, the silhouette of New York City opaque against the late summer haze. 

Art tried again, a bit gentler this time. “I thought that gospel tune was really something, Paul”

“If you’re so hung up with that gospel song I should see if any choirs have any vacancies, maybe buy you a robe?” Paul chirped.

A relief came over Art. “Ah, yes, a nice Jewish boy fronting the Harlem Gospel Choir, the crowds will come in masses. I can see the news bulletin now: Art Garfunkel leaves his estranged partner Paul Simon for his debut performance at Madison Square Gardens!” 

“Shut up,” Paul chuckled.

Art didn’t bother to hide his smirk as they turned onto the interstate.


	3. Bridge Over Troubled HUH GAYYYY

All of Paul’s worries were soon brushed aside when the partners started working on harmonies and arrangements for their next album. The oncoming weeks were full of surprisingly productive visits to the studio on 30th street. 

Paul was just finishing listening to that day’s rough demo cut when Art stormed in the front door of his apartment. 

“It’s unbelievable out there!” Art huffed as he slithered out of his leather jacket. “I know it’s a Friday night, but still! How hard is it for a guy to get a Pizza in New York!”

Paul chuckled as he watched his flustered friend fishing out the change from his pocket. He thought to himself about how he liked the way Art bit his bottom lip when he was frustrated, and how he also liked the fact Art had just decided one day that knocking was obsolete. He liked quite a few things about Art, actually, but maybe that was just the glass of wine taking. Paul was startled when he thought Art caught him staring.

Art gave him a puzzled look, “You started drinking without me!” Art teased. Paul could feel the flush of warmth creeping up his neck onto his cheeks. “You want another one while I’m up?” called Art from the kitchen. “Sure” responded Paul as he began to reset the demo tapes on his machine. 

“Are those today’s cuts?” asked Art in between a mouth full of pizza as he plopped down on the couch. Paul chose to ignore the fact that they were sitting a bit too close as he nodded and grabbed a slice for himself. 

Three bottles of wine and four listens of the tapes later, Art and Paul began chatting about nothing in particular as they so often did. They had lost track of time when Art glanced down at his watch. “Shit” he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, “It’s 2am, the Subway is definitely close by now”

Paul turned towards Art, nearly touching his forehead with his own as they both slumped towards each other the couch. “Are you telling me that Art Garfunkel of Simon and Garfunkel still takes the Subway?”

“What’s wrong with that!” Art retaliated, looking playfully offended. 

“Nothing!” Paul laughed “I just thought you would jump at the chance to take a cab as soon as we got our first pay cut from Columbia years ago.”

“Well I guess there are some things you still don’t know about me, Paul Simon.” Chimed Art as he lowered his eyes to Paul’s, his pink lips slightly ajar as he stared back at Paul.

Paul had never seen Art this close before. His contrasting nose looked oddly soft in between his flushed cheeks. Maybe it was the wine, but Paul couldn’t drag himself away from studying the valleys and contours of his best friend’s complexion. 

“Didn’t you mention earlier that you wanted to show me something?” asked Art as he nudged Paul’s arm with his elbow. Paul lifted his eyes back up to match Art’s “Shouldn’t you be getting home?” replied Paul as he uttered a half hearted attempt at the idea of being a responsible friend. “I’ll just crash on the couch,” said Art, as he nudged Paul again “Hey! Just like the old times!”

The contact of Art’s elbow left Paul’s arm burning, it tingled as he brought himself to get up from the couch. “If you say so,” chuckled Paul as he walked to grab his acoustic from the bedroom. 

Art swung his legs onto the couch as leaned back into a feline-like stretch when a piece of crumpled paper next to the coffee table caught his attention. He was a bit dizzy picking up the paper and fumbled with his semi-useless fingers. Note to self, stop at 5 glasses of wine next time he thought. “What’s this, Paul? Lyrics?” he called to the other room. 

“What?” shouted Paul from the bedroom “Hold on let me just find this chart” 

As Art flattened out the crumpled page he saw Paul’s familiar handwriting – neat and precise, just like the man who wrote it. As he started to read, his heart sank:

 

Tom, get your plane right on time  
I know your part'll go fine  
Fly down to Mexico  
Do-n-do-d-do-n-do and here I am,  
The only living boy in New York

Paul walked back into the room, guitar in tow, “So, it’s not done yet, but think of a full band behind it- keys, percussion, horns-“ Paul stopped when he saw Art reading. “Where did you find that?” Paul said sternly as he paused in the doorway. 

“Paul. Is this about-“

“Art.”

“I didn’t realize you-“

“It’s nothing, just hand me the paper, Artie” 

“Paul, it’s alright I-“

Paul sat down heavily. “Look,” he let out a huff as he looked down at the spinning floor. “I thought it would be fine when you left- that it would give me some space to write, ya’ know? But. I don’t know Art, let’s just drop it. I’m tired and…” Paul got up from the couch. 

“Paul-“ Art grabbed Paul’s arm and pulled him back down, he didn’t let go. “I wasn’t completely honest with you about Mexico. Sure it was a great opportunity, the cast was phenomenal and the script was…but… it was so hot, and when filming was done for the day there wasn’t much else to do. It was, lonely Paul. I was lone-“

“You don’t have to make up some sad story just so mine looks less pathetic.” Paul signed. “It’s nothing, you should go, I’ll call you a cab” He walked over and grabbed Art’s jacket and look lost with it draped over his arm. 

“You sure Paul- I really don’t mind crashing here-“

“I said you should just go!” Paul didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he was tired and wasn’t in the mood to argue. He looked over to Art, his eyes drawn to the floor as he sat on the edge of couch with his hands tucked in between his legs. He looked small. Art wasn’t supposed to be the small one. 

Art stood up “It’s fine, I’ll just get a cab outside” He squeezed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. “I guess you’ll want to cancel the 11:30 session tomorrow then?” He looked over to Paul who had his back turned to him. “Or I can just call and say we won’t be in for the rest of the week?” Still nothing.

Art pulled his shoulders back and tried again, “Or how about we just call this entire thing off- you were skeptical in the first place, and please don’t give me that ‘told you so’ bullshit about this because maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you to start writing again so soon but you just seemed so excited and-“

“I missed you.” Said Paul. 

Art just stared at him as Paul turned around and shrugged his shoulders as he let his hands fall to his side. Paul cleared his throat “Let’s just call it a night”

Both men stood in the hallway in silence. Art started walking towards Paul and he started to hand his friend the jacket, but Art wasn’t stopping. 

Art reached his hands up to Paul’s face and kissed him. It was unexpectedly firm and Paul could feel his stiff shoulders relax as he relaxed into the kiss.


	4. Keepin' the Customer Satisfied

Art Garfunkel had always considered himself to be a sensible man. Every action or conversation was perfectly planned and tailored to the situation- he was always able to calculate every step, every move- then he kissed Paul.

Were men’s lips supposed to be this soft? Thought Art as he pushed into the kiss. He slid his hand up from where it was resting on the small of Paul’s back, his fingers feeling like they were on fire as he glided his hand to the nape of Paul’s neck, pulling him closer. Paul let out a small sigh as Art’s hand reached around to cup his face. 

“Artie, I-” Paul huffed as he drew his swollen lips away from Art’s. Paul felt himself stiffen as Art leaned in to kiss him again, but this time he put his hand on Art’s chest to stop him. “I don’t think this is… Artie, we’ve had a lot to drink and…It’s so late, I’m tired and…” Paul was running out of excuses as he leaned his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was his best friend, his only friend and-

“Paul, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just assumed… I didn’t think about how this would make you feel I-”

“Neither did I” Laughed Paul. 

Art smiled as he tipped forward until their foreheads met- he’d always dated taller girls, but right now he didn’t seem to mind the height difference between him and his friend in the slightest. “Paul,” his eyelashes felt heavy as his eyes were drawn to Paul’s intense gaze. He waited for Paul’s signal, then nudged at his face with his own and kissed him again, languid and deliberate. Paul cupped his face firmly and kissed back. 

“Artie” Paul pulled away slightly as Art’s lips followed his. 

“Shhh” whispered Art as he rubbed their noses together and tilted Paul’s head to the side so he could get better access to his neck. 

Paul closed his eyes as Art worked his way down the side of his neck, leaving little faerie kisses behind as he tugged and teased at his flushed skin. Art found his way to the crook of skin peeking out from the top of Paul’s t-shirt and nuzzled in deeper. He breathed him in as pulled Paul tighter against him, letting out a sigh as he traveled back up to meet his lips. 

It wasn’t until they were kissing again that Paul realised he actually wanted this, no, needed this, and took the first opportunity he had to take over. 

The force of the kiss was such a surprise that Art didn’t even have time to breathe in between their last one. Art’s ears flushed as Paul pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, the kiss was wet and hot and wonderful and oh my goodness Paul was kissing him. There was need, and want, and a spectacular sort of urgency that neither of them had felt before. There was too much of everything, too much bottled up, and every touch ever conceived in their minds needed to be tangible at this very moment. Their arms wound tight around each other, Paul reaching up on his tiptoes and grabbing Art’s shoulders as he pushed him back against the wall. 

Tiny noises escaped Art’s mouth as he tried to pull Paul even closer towards him, but no matter how hard he pulled he still wasn’t close enough. 

Paul’s hands began to wander over Art’s shoulders beyond the long expanse of his narrow chest and beyond. A sudden jolt of electricity ran through Art’s entire stomach when Paul’s hands slid down his chest to pull out his tucked shirt from his belt. As he slid his hands down to meet Paul’s their fingers intertwined and Art let another sigh. 

“Art” sighed Paul. “I want this,” he kissed him. “I want this, and I…”

Art seized his face with his hands and kissed him again. It’s all could think of doing and it was all he wanted to do.


End file.
